Luckily my friend Jenny is a really talented massage therapist and because we used to live together (dear heart) I made an appointment with her for a massage last night. It. Was. Amazing. I highly recommend her.

We used to live together with the most beautiful can, Quinn. Mercury Retrograde is really bringing up a lot of stuff for me, I guess. Ran into a girl I went to college with but have not kept in touch with. It was nice, sort of strange. For the first couple of years after graduating I hated running into people like that because we'd talk about ourselves and our jobs and I was always temping and I was really ashamed of that. I'd sometimes mention making music or performing or writing. Or go-go dancing. Like sort of as a half-joke. Like I know, I know.

For some reason, for the last few years, there's been a recurring subscription to New York Magazine going to my parents' house in California, under my name. I have no idea why. Nobody has been paying them, and I never signed up for it. My parents asked if I wanted it transferred here, because they don't really want to read it and they've been getting it, reading it and throwing it out for the last three years and they don't want to keep doing that. So against my wishes, they have transferred the subscription to me in Brooklyn.

Now, nothing against New York Magazine. But I feel like that magazine is mostly for rich people, right? Like it seems to be about this really aspirational idea of New York. Like, who has a house in the Hamptons? I mean: plenty of people do, I guess. Even people I think are cool. I dunno. It just sometimes reminds me how poor I am, and makes me wonder if I would like to be rich one day. Hmm.

It's so strange to think that in a few years, definitely within our lifetime, the idea of being "rich" will be completely irrelevant.